


Idio(t)glossary

by IndigoDream



Series: The Idio(t)s [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe- Twins, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Twins, but he is FIIINE, canon is hinted at, some violence against Geralt, this is just... me going off someone's idea and honestly it was FUN, vaguely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: (1) Idioglossary: A glossary that is peculiar to a particular subjectIdiotglossary: A language that's particular to two absolute moron twins--Julian Pankratz is Jaskier's twin brother, and unfortunately they are identical. He also happens to be his brother's songwriter, and hears about Geralt of Rivia constantly. He is a bit tired of the damn witcher, especially when said witcher confuses him for his brother. Most people do though, except one person. Another witcher too...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Lambert/Original Male Character
Series: The Idio(t)s [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1714507
Comments: 63
Kudos: 318





	Idio(t)glossary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChaosWriting](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaosWriting/gifts).



> O K so if you clicked on this fic thinking "oh this will be fun" -- 1) thank you 2) I'm sorry 3) this is just... crack treated seriously and now I'm invested in Lambert/Julian (you'll understand).
> 
> This is all due to the dumb witcher server I joined a few days again, but mostly to ChaosWriting to whom this fic is dedicated bc... It's absolutely their idea first and I ain't stealing from no one laddies.
> 
> Ok, I have finished being dumb, this is just crack, please enjoy and leave a kudos/comment!
> 
> OH There is also a good amount of dumb jokes. yeah that one's on me

The first time it happens, Julian is just walking down a small town, having gotten himself some new bolts for his crossbow. A few ones broke against a tree when he missed his shot while hunting across the last few days. He blames it on the wind, but he still needs to replace them, so it had warranted the visit to the local blacksmith. For a few coins, he managed to get just enough to last him the rest of spring. 

A hand, heavy and large, settles on his shoulder, and he startles, his hand immediately going to his belt, where his dagger is hidden. He turns around immediately, and stares at some broad shoulder, and black clothes and — golden eyes. A witcher. White haired, with the wolf medallion, it must be Geralt. Julian’s heard enough about him from Jaskier at every dinner they have together to identify him on sight. 

“Come,” the witcher says, rough and low, and okay, Julian kind of gets why his twin is always going on and on about him. He _is_ extremely attractive, and those shoulders… Julian could do _things_ to that man. 

“Hey,” Julian tries to move away slightly, “listen, I’m not—“ 

The hand on his shoulders tighten and a glare stops him from continuing with his sentence. Alright, fine, he’ll just go with the witcher for a bit and hopefully he’ll notice soon enough that Julian is not Jaskier the bard. Julian only writes the songs, he can’t fucking sing them unless he wants to be thrown chairs at. 

After a few minutes of moving, Julian tries again. “I’m really not—“ 

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up, we don’t have time to talk right now!” Geralt snaps and forces him to keep moving. 

Well. Julian’s sure that’s just because he is an annoyed witcher, because Jaskier talks about him like he makes the sun rise over the mountains every day, and if Julian has to hear another bad metaphor from his musically gifted, brainless brother, he will end up having to dig a grave. 

He only manages to escape Geralt when they get to the woods, but it’s a close thing. The witcher has an amazing sense of hearing, and Julian has to hide in a cold stream where leaves and mud pile up before he can escape the witcher. 

_Well,_ he thinks as he finds back his camp, _I’ll have to have a talk with Jask about that._

— 

The next time he is mistaken for his twin, it’s even less pleasant. Julian just wanted some ale, for once he had willingly, under no constraints, had gone to town and found the nearest tavern. He is halfway through his second pint when a hand settles on his shoulder. He has half a mind to bite it, but his parents’ words resonate in his mind, so he doesn’t, simply looks up. 

An angry man, red faced and smaller than Julian would be if he were standing up, is glaring at him. 

“You’re that pansy bard fellow who thought it funny to cuckold me!” 

And then Julian gets punched before having time to explain that no, he very much didn’t fuck this man’s wife, but it’s likely his brother did. Jaskier tends to not care much about his sexual partners, since he can’t have the true object of his affection, but Julian very much cares. He likes them male, and that’s all. So he certainly did not fuck anyone’s wives. 

The fight ends with the man passed out on the ground, blood pouring out of his nose, and Julian wipes the blood from his knuckles on his shirt. He might need to buy a new one, now that he looks at it. 

The night ends with men chasing him out of town, local guards with their swords drawn out. Julian curses his brother’s lust ten times over. 

— 

He loses count after that, but he tries to avoid towns as much as he can. He still has to sell his preys if he wants to make money, but he tries to keep his hood on whenever does. 

Today though, he doesn’t have to worry. He has just finished catching a rabbit, and is skinning it a bit away from camp, so that he can bury the guts there without any worry of the smell and the possibility of attracting too many predators. It’s a familiar, almost soothing action now. He’s been living in and out of the woods for nearly fifteen years, just as long as Jaskier has been travelling around the world, chasing the love of his life. How stupid of him. 

“It looks like the witcher has you doing his dirty work now. And you aren’t even complaining, how odd.” 

A woman, dressed all in black, with stunning purple eyes, is staring down at him. Julian doesn’t have to think for more than a second to know she’s a mage. No idea how she knows Jaskier though, but he sure hopes Jaskier didn’t fuck her and leave. Because then it’ll be very, very awkward for everyone involved. 

“What the fuck?” 

“Where is Geralt? Anywhere close, perhaps? It would be most convenient for me.” She doesn’t seem to have realized that he isn’t Jaskier, and that he also doesn’t know her in the slightest. 

“How the fuck would I know?” 

She fixes him with an icy glare and he glares right back, a growl forming in his throat. He has had enough of people thinking he is Jaskier, really, and if it takes a little stabbing to convince them otherwise, so be it.

“In the middle of a little lovers’ spat then,” she scoffs at him and walks away. “I’ll find him on my own then. Useless as always, bard.” 

She disappears through a portal before he can yell at her that no, he isn’t Jaskier, damn it!

— 

The next time it happens, he is just finishing his dinner. He managed to catch a fish in the stream next to his new camp, and he foraged the rest, found enough food to sustain himself through the day, although he’ll probably have to go to the city soon. 

“Ah.” 

The voice interrupts his peaceful moment, and his crossbow is back in his hands immediately, aimed at the man standing there. A large scar runs down his face, almost cutting down the warm golden eyes there. A witcher then. Julian doesn’t lower his crossbow. 

“I didn’t realize they meant Geralt and you,” the stranger says gruffly and walks closer, sitting down opposite Julian like he belongs around the fire. “When the villagers said a strange presence had settled in the woods.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” 

“Could at least remember me, Jaskier,” the man grumbles. “Where is Geralt anyway?” 

His question is answered by a tight fist colliding with his jaw. It sends him sprawling down, the surprise accounting for most of the effect of the punch, but Julian is also on top of him, teeth bared. 

“I am not Jaskier, for all the gods sake, call me that again and I’ll cut your balls.” He has his dagger pressed against the Witcher’s throat, and while there is no fear in the eyes of the man, there certainly is an interested light. He’s quite handsome, Julian remarks in passing. 

“You certainly aren’t,” the man agrees. “Let me go now?” 

Julian hesitates, but while aware of his strength, he also knows witchers are stronger than most humans. There is very little chance he would win in a fight against that witcher, and he isn’t too keen on dying just yet. 

“Fine,” he relents and gets back up, away from the witcher and back to his meal. 

“So, you look like Jaskier, but you aren’t him.” The witcher says that flatly and looks at him expectantly. When Julian doesn’t speak up, he asks, “Who are you then? Cousin, brother?” 

“Twin brother,” Julian rolls his eyes at the way the man seems to make the connection. Sadly for them, Jaskier and him look exactly the same. The only way to differentiate them is to see which one of them can actually carry a tune. “Julian.” 

“I didn’t know Jaskier had a twin brother,” the witcher remarks. “I’m Lambert.” 

Julian doesn’t care what the handsome witcher is called. He just wants so damn peace and to stop hearing about his brother. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Jaskier, would kill for him, has on the odd occasion, and he even writes song for the dumb idiot. But if he is confused again for Jaskier, he might seriously consider giving himself a serious face scar to mark the difference. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea, after all. It certainly suits some people, he thinks as he watches Lambert, who only watches him back. 

“Are you going to stay here all night or what?” 

“Well, I was hired to go find the thing in the woods that’s been worrying the villagers.” Lambert replies, takes a bite of some dried meat he pulled out of his bag. “So unless it isn’t you, and there really is something in the woods, yes. If you get attacked by a monster, you’ll certainly not live to tell the tale unless you have a witcher with you. Plus, if you touch a word of it to your brother, I might get a song too.” 

Julian groans loudly. “Don’t you start with that song, I’m so tired of Jaskier thinking he is a good composer.” 

A tilt of the Witcher’s head has his golden eyes catch on the light, and Julian really sees better why his brother goes on and on about Geralt of Rivia’s eyes. In the dying firelight, they glow like a river of gold, and they make something stir inside of Julian. 

“I’ve heard he is pretty appreciated though,” Lambert says. 

“If someone didn’t help him out with the pile of weird imagery he is cycling through every year, it would send people running away. People like him because he sings well and performs animatedly.”

“So what, the great wandering bard Jaskier doesn’t write his own songs?”

Lambert isn’t judging in any way, not as far as Julian can tell. Rather, he seems curious, and slightly amused. His lips have a slight curl and he looks almost relaxed, sitting on the tree log he chose as his stool. 

“Of course not.” 

“So who does it for him?” Lambert almost grins. “I need to thank that person for making my own brother annoyed to death with his bard.” 

“I guess you’re in luck then,” Julian shrugs and finishes eating the berries he found earlier. 

Lambert fixes him with a surprised look. “You write songs?” 

“Surprising maybe, but yes. I give them to Jaskier so he has something worthwhile to perform. We’ve been doing that since our days at Oxenfurt.” 

Why the hell is he telling all this to a stranger, to a witcher that could tell Jaskier’s witcher? Clearly, Lambert knows Geralt, he had referred to him as his brother even. Jaskier doesn’t mind him telling people, sure, but Julian knows that Jaskier would rather Geralt believes he is the poet, the dramatic composer he pretends to be. Julian has told him, multiple times even, that it’s ridiculous and surely the witcher wouldn’t care in any way? But Jaskier had maintained that he didn’t want Geralt to believe he had lied to him. 

“Have you ever told him you wrote the songs?” Julian had asked around a pint of ale when they had last met. 

Jaskier had swirled his glass of sweet wine, looking pained. It was always amusing to see people reacting to the both of them in the same place, Julian could say that at least. He had felt the murmured glances, the surprised stumble as fans of Jaskier saw a copy of him sitting across from their idol. 

“No,” Jaskier had finally said. 

“Has he even asked about your songs and music since you two started seeing each other?” 

“It’s not his favourite topic of conversation in our travels. Our friendship,” Jaskier had insisted on the word, but the longing in his eyes told Julian other wise. “Is based on the fact that we can go back and forth, not always together. We do always manage to find one another again however.”

Julian hadn’t pushed more at the subject then, and he doesn’t regret it, but he feels a slight twinge of guilt at having betrayed his brother’s trust by telling Lambert about it. 

“Don’t tell my brother’s witcher,” Julian grits the words out. “Please.” 

Lambert’s eyebrows rise. “And why not? You don’t seem the type to care whatever it is that someone else thinks of you.” 

“It’s not for me,” Julian snaps. “Jaskier doesn’t want Geralt to know, and I’m respecting his wish.” 

The smile on Lambert’s face blooms a bit more, and Julian ignores the way it sends warmth through his body. 

“If your brother needs inspiration and takes it by walking with Geralt through monster hunts and the likes, shouldn’t you do the same?”

“Not everyone wants to follow a witcher around,” Julian says with a shrug. 

“You wouldn’t?” Lambert looks at him, and Julian feels that warmth stir inside him again. 

“Not just the first witcher I met no,” he answers vaguely, ignores the treacherous _Lambert isn’t the first witcher you’ve met, you could go with him, have your own adventure_ sounding in his mind.

“How many witchers have you met by now?” The witcher tears at his dry meat again, and Julian takes pity. 

“Have something fucking edible at least,” he says and gives him what he had been saving for his breakfast. He’ll find something easily enough anyway. 

“You’ve got more bite than your brother,” Lambert comments with a slight grin. “I like that.” 

“And I care because?” Julian is standing now, casting his shadow over Lambert. “Don’t talk about Jaskier.” 

“What, touchy about your brother?” Lambert eats slowly but his eyes don’t leave Julian’s. 

“You don’t know anything about him,” Julian growls, anger boiling in his blood. 

“Don’t need to know much to know he talks too fucking much, do I?” 

Lambert has barely finished his sentence that he has, once again, a dagger pressed against his throat. Julian is incredibly closer to him, and has seized his hair in a tight grip. There is still no fear in Lambert’s eyes, but an expression that Julian knows well, arousal. He smirks and presses the knife more. 

“You like this don’t you, Lambert?” Julian growls, and Lambert slowly puts the rest of the food down, and looks up at Julian. 

“What would you do if I did?” His smirk is lazy and defiant, and Julian nearly groans, but he will lose control of he shows any sign of weakness. And right now… He is really enjoying this. 

“You like to be pushed around, you like it when I threaten you.” Julian pushes his thumb inside Lambert’s mouth, and the man opens up so easily, his slightly sharp teeth almost cutting the skin. Not quite though, and Julian almost regrets it. 

At the end of the night, when Lambert sweet cries have been swallowed by the emptiness of the forest, Julian is, for once, glad that someone mistook him for Jaskier. At least, Lambert was able to see through it. He might actually consider traveling with the witcher, if only while moving from this town to the next. After all, he does like seeing the bloom of his bites on the neck of his lover. 

— 

There are a few more times after that, but never again with Lambert. Lambert even meets Jaskier again after, and tells everything to Julian as they lay in bed, both covered in bite marks and scratches. They’ve splurged on an inn this time, and Julian had taken his time to make the witcher come undone. They like each other, Julian doesn’t want to say love, not just yet, but it’s close enough, on the tip of his tongue. He’ll make Lambert say it first though, make him scream it and beg for his love. 

He’s just changed his outfit into a nice, red jacket that Jaskier had forced him to get last time they had been in a town together. Lambert promised to meet him at the base of the mountain, but Julian got slightly lost. There is something strange about this mountain, and he is just trying to find his way back to Lambert when he happens upon Geralt of Rivia. The bane of his life, if he dares say so himself. He knows how much the man matters to Jaskier, sure, but he has also a stark memory of the way he had been treated when Geralt had confused him for Jaskier. 

“Geralt,” he says nonetheless, willing to be pleasant for the sake of his brother, who mustn’t be too far, “you wouldn’t—“ 

“Dammit Jaskier,” the white haired witcher snaps, “Why is it that whenever I find myself in a pile of shit it’s you, shovelling it.” 

“Wait—“ Julian tries to interrupt him, anger rising in him. Is that how the witcher talks to _his brother_? If so, they are about to have a few words. 

But Geralt of Rivia is not listening, “The Child Surprise, the Djinn, all of it! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” 

And now that’s quite enough of it. No one talks to Julian’s brother this way. Especially not Geralt of fucking Rivia, who Jaskier loves with all his heart. The man who has made Jaskier cry in front of Julian for the first time in years when Jaskier had realized Geralt loved Yennefer does not deserve to unleash all his problems on Julian’s brother. Julian knows the events he is referring to, and he knows well enough to be aware that they are not all Jaskier’s fault. His brother is a fool, but a kind-hearted and loving one. 

Slowly, as Geralt turns his back to him, Julian grabs the crossbow from his back, and loads it with a bolt, keeping a few others close at hand. 

“Don’t you ever talk to Jaskier this way,” he growls as Geralt turns around, anger fading to surprise, “or I’ll kill you myself and your body will be a mystery they’ll never be able to unearth.”

“Jaskier, what are you—“ 

Julian snaps too. The bolt buries itself in the thigh of the witcher and he recharges it before Geralt has even the time to react. 

“Say one more word about Jaskier,” Julian growls and shoots again, aiming for the man’s stomach. He’s a _witcher_ , at the end of the day he’ll be _fine_. 

“What in the world—“ Geralt says as he stops the second bolt, but a third and fourth one force him to retreat until he is at the edge of the cliff. 

“You better not even tell Jaskier that you even thought those words for a moment, witcher,” Julian spats the word out and aims for Geralt’s belly again, “or I’ll make sure you aren’t capable of moving for days.” 

He lets the last bolt go, but Geralt darts it by jumping down the cliff. Julian sees his fingers catch on the stone, and when he rushes to see whether the witcher has fallen to his death, robbing him of his pleasure, he finds Geralt climbing down fast. 

“If we cross paths again, witcher, I’m killing you, you hear?” He yells the words over the wind and then turns around. He’ll find his way to Lambert on his own. 

— 

That evening, he is on top of his own witcher already, having pushed him in the ground and biting at his neck, when the man speaks up. 

“So, I saw my brother today,” Lambert starts, groans as teeth sink into his shoulder. “Was surprised to see him limping.” 

Julian hums and starts undoing his shirt. He’s eager to get things started. “Which one?” 

“Geralt.” 

“Ah.” Julian stills and looks at him. “So he was limping?” 

“Yes, he said something about his bard being possessed? Being shot by a crossbow and climbing down a mountain while being yelled at… Though, when he met up with Jaskier, he had no memories of it…” Lambert seems amused, running his hands on Julian’s thighs and looking up at him with a grin. “I wonder what really happened.” 

“Your brother was being an asshole to mine, that’s what happened,” Julian growls and finishes undoing his short, attacking Lambert’s clothes next. 

“Was he now?” Lambert hums and flips them, and the soft grass and mud press against Julian’s skin. He likes it when his lover gets rough, impatient with him. “What did he do? Geralt is always rude.” 

Julian groans when Lambert’s hand scratches his chest, surely leaving a mark. “He blamed all his problems on Jaskier. Wished him out of his life too.” 

“Mmm. That’s quite cruel.” Lambert nips at the skin of his neck and Julian moans shamelessly. “So you shot him?” 

“Yes. He deserved it. He’ll heal anyway, won’t he? He’s a witcher, like you.” 

“Are you saying you would shoot me with a crossbow too?” Lambert smirks and pushes down Julian’s pants, taking his cock in hand. 

“Fuck,” Julian groans. Lambert’s hands are always just the perfect roughness. “If you insulted me or my brother the way he did? Without hesitation.” 

Adoration shines in Lambert’s eyes, and Julian still doesn’t want to voice it, but he knows he is in love. Just as ,much as he knows Lambert loves him. He can feel it, pulsing inside of him. 

All talks of brothers are quickly forgotten as they lose themselves in one another, groaning and stifling their shouts. No beasts would dare to come by, not when Lambert’s witcherness rolls off him in waves. Not when Julian’s blood confuses them as they don’t feel any humanity in him. 

—

It’s close to winter now, and Julian took a room in an inn. He made sure to keep his face hidden, in case Jaskier had come by recently and someone would recognize him. Last time he saw him was after the mountain. Even without Geralt’s angry words, there had been a sadness in the way his brother’s shoulder were set, a deception wide and large to the eye. 

“What’s wrong,” Julian had asked around his meal, having paid for Jaskier’s. He was, after all, nothing if not a good brother. 

“It’s Geralt,” Jaskier had sighed, and Julian had gritted his teeth, preventing the onslaught of love sickness that would sure be coming. “He’s been asking strange. He went to get his Child Surprise right now, but before that he looked at me so strangely… Like I was someone completely different. He asked to meet up with me once he had gotten Princess Cirilla, but… I don’t know. I think it’s just a goodbye forever. He’s so in love with Yennefer still too.” 

A sigh had ended his tirade and Julian had squeezed his shoulder. “He would be a fool to let go of you, Jask. You are the most talented bard in the whole Continent, and you are loyal, to the death of you. A bit of a fool,” he had added that just to see the offended gasp on his brother’s face, “but the kindest soul to have graced the Continent.” 

“And that’s why you’re the poet,” Jaskier sighed again, but he was smiling this time. “I’m lucky that you let me sing your songs, Jules. I couldn’t do it without you. Are you sure you don’t mind people not knowing you’re the writer of most of them?” 

Julian had bitten his lips then, hesitant, but he had to tell him the truth. “I have already told someone. But he won’t repeat it to anyone. I trust him to keep our secret.” 

Jaskier’s lips had spread in delight. “You’ve finally found yourself a man to call yours! How wonderful! When do I get to meet him?” 

Julian had refused to tell him it was Lambert. Jaskier knew Lambert already, had met him and some of the other witchers in passing. 

Now, Julian was waiting for Lambert to show up. He had left instructions for the innkeeper that, if a witcher with a scar on their right side came asking for a room, they should direct him to this room, so he wasn’t particularly worried. Instead, he was trying to write something worthwhile for Jaskier.

The door to his room opens without a knock, and he immediately brings his dagger closer, ready to throw himself at whoever enters, but he grins when he sees Lambert, languishing in the doorway. The man is still as beautiful as the first time Julian saw him, and he knows all the scars hidden underneath his clothing now. It only makes Lambert more attractive. 

“Are you going to linger in the doorway all night, or am I going to be greeted properly,” Julian teases and gets up, putting away his dagger. 

Lamber grunts and comes to kiss him, biting and tugging at his lips. The kiss, which had started so sweet, quickly turns to more heated passion. Julian quickly finds himself pushed on the bed, the witcher straddling him. Julian likes that, he likes feeling the strong thighs of the man, likes the way his hair is tugged so that Lambert can have access to his lips. 

They are halfway out of their clothes when Lambert gasps loudly, more loudly than he should be doing right now, and Julian stills. As he somehow hurt him? The very idea tears his heart apart. 

“Lambert? What is it? Do we need to stop?” 

Lambert huffs, kisses his lips with a tenderness that isn’t often found between them. “No. Absolutely not. I just, I have something to ask?” 

There is something almost hesitant in his voice, and Julian stops the caresses immediately, being really worried now.

“What is it?” 

“Would you like to come spend the winter at Kaer Morhen?” Lambert kisses his neck, keeps undressing him. “I want to keep you all winter. You could meet the others too. Vesemir and Eskel.” 

“And Geralt?” Julian grits the name out. “Would I meet him as well?” 

“He doesn’t always come home,” Lambert shrugs and pulls a kiss from Julian’s lips. “And even if he does, you can do whatever you want. It would be funny actually.” 

Julian groans and locks his legs behind Lambert’s back, forcing their chests together. “Swear it to me.” 

“I swear it, my love,” Lambert says, and then his eyes widen as he realizes what he said. 

A slow, lazy grin appears on Julian’s lips, and Lambert tries to get away, but Julian won’t let him. “If you say it, I’ll come with you. If you don’t…” He shrugs and grins again. “Well, I’ve got other places to spend the winter in.” 

Something possessive passes through Lambert’s face and he presses harder against Julian. “Where.” He doesn’t ask, he commands, and that’s enough to send a shiver down Julian’s spine. 

He wants to keep playing with him, to keep making him angry and jealous, but the truth is, since he met Lambert, Julian hasn’t cared much for others. He is, and the realization doesn’t surprise him quite so much, but the truth and depth of it does, happy with Lambert. Happy and in love as well. Gods, he makes fun of Jaskier for loving his witcher, but Julian has found his own and he’ll fight to keep him. 

“Nowhere,” he murmurs softly, voice breaking, “I just want to hear you say it. Please, Lambert.” 

Julian doesn’t asks for things from Lambert very often, and Lambert almost melts at hearing this. It’s a strange thing, Julian ponders briefly, to see a witcher so intent on giving love, so desperate to receive it too. Julian knows what witchers face in their everyday life, and it makes him furious. That’s why he is still helping his brother with the White Wolf’s reputation, at least part of it. If Geralt of Rivia has a better reputation, then people might be kinder to the other witchers. To Julian’s witcher. 

“I love you,” Lambert half mumbles, burying his head in Julian’s neck and biting him. “There, are you happy?” 

“Yes,” Julian says and tugs at Lambert’s hair until the man looks up into his eyes. “I love you too, you idiot.” 

And Lambert’s face is full of light suddenly. “You will come to Kaer Morhen then?” 

“Yes,” Julian rolls his eyes but kisses him. “I will come to the witchers’ den.” 

Lambert’s enthusiasm is shown extensively that night, and Julian does’t complain at any moment. In the morning, Lambert hoists him up on his horse and they set up for the home of the witchers. Julian’s bag has his crossbow and bolts, in case Geralt shows his face again. He hasn’t forgiven him just yet. 

—

Kaer Morhen is cold, but the witchers keep a large, roaring fire that warms the cold stone, and Lambert has no problem pulling Julian in his lap. Vesemir had been a bit gruff, but Julian has been here for five days now, and the older witcher has slowly relaxed. Julian has an inkling it’s due to how much Lambert seems to relax when he is around. He remembers the Lambert of their early times together, when it wasn’t so much affection that kept them together but rather the want for a body. There had always been a tension in those broad shoulders, an angry set to Lambert’s jaw. Now, the witcher just pulls him in his lap freely, demands kisses and bites, and his eyes are soft when they settle on Julian. 

It feels good, to be desired and wanted this much, but especially because it’s Lambert. Lambert, who wakes him up in the morning to get him to train in the courtyard, and teaches him all the dirty tricks he can pull in a sword fight, before pinning him to the wall and marking his neck. Lambert, who _loves_ him.

When the door of the hall opens, Julian is nestled in Lambert’s lap, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth of the fire at his back.

“I’m back,” a gruff voice says, and there are two other footsteps with him. “Brought guests.” 

Julian slowly looks up. If Geralt of Rivia brought Jaskier, he might at least consider not shooting him. But no, there isn’t his twin. There is Yennefer of Vengerberg, the woman who had accosted him once, believing he was Jaskier, and then there is the little princess of Cintra, Geralt’s Child Surprise he had tried to blame on Jaskier. 

“Baby,” he tells Lambert sweetly, caressing his hair. “Can you hand me my crossbow?” 

Geralt stares at them, mouth agape, and Yennefer’s eyebrows are risen up. “Jaskier?” 

Lambert moves slightly to the side and grabs the crossbow that’s lying underneath the chair they are nestled in. Neither of them likes to be parted from their weapons, so they usually keep them within arm’s reach. Lambert’s own swords are resting there too. 

When Geralt sees the crossbow aimed at him, a flash of recognition appears in his eyes. “Fuck,” he swears and darts away. 

“Oh not this time, you coward,” Julian growls and shoots after him. 

“Julian,” Vesemir says as he walks in the room, frowning. “I would recommend you avoid hurting one of our own when you are within our walls.” 

“With all due respect, sir,” Julian says as he puts another bolt in place, movements fast and precise. “He hurt my brother. Repeatedly. And insulted him.”

Vesemir considers this and nods with a hum. “Proceed then.” 

“Your brother?” Geralt yells as another bolt flies to him. “What the fuck Jaskier!” 

“Mind your language around the child,” Yennefer says languidly, moving Ciri away gently, who looks startled. “That’s not how you want her to grow up, swearing like you do. It’s uncouthly.” 

“I’m a bit busy trying not to get shot!” Geralt yells again, and a bolt misses his shoulder by inch. “Jaskier, what the fuck!” 

“Oh,” Ciri realizes as the doors open again. “Geralt, I don’t think—“ 

“Look who I brought in!” A cheery voice interrupts, and Julian turns his head ever so slightly to see Jaskier standing in the doorway. He wasn’t the one who spoke: a man, another witcher with gold eyes - _Eskel_ his mind supplies- has an arm thrown around his shoulders, a bright smile on his lips that fade as he sees Julian holding a crossbow towards Geralt. 

“Julian?” Jaskier asks, incredulous. “Put that crossbow down immediately!” 

“I’m not taking orders from my little brother,” Julian snaps. “I’m protecting you!” 

“You were born barely minutes before me,” Jaskier protests and crosses his arms. “And protecting me from what exactly?” 

Everyone’s eyes turn to Geralt, who has quietly been trying to sneak away from the room, and freezes suddenly. 

“What the fuck, from Geralt? He is my friend!” 

“He insulted you!” 

“He does that all the time!” Jaskier says, and then sees the anger in his twin’s eyes. “No, you put that crossbow— JULIAN!” 

The last bolt Julian was carrying with him has just pierced the air. Geralt sprints away from it.

“Now,” Eskel says calmly, coming to sit next to Yennefer, who is looking absolutely delighted with the day’s events, “I don’t know you Julian, but if you’ve got the balls to shoot at the White Wolf, please go ahead.” 

“Is no one on my side?” Geralt asks, something almost pleading in his voice as he turns his eyes to his brothers first, and then to the rest of them. 

“I mean,” Ciri says sweetly, shrugging a bit, “Jaskier is nice, so if you insulted him you should definitely apologize.” 

“The kid is right,” Vesemir adds on. “The bard’s made your reputation, and all your brothers’, better throughout the Continent. Pretty nice songs too, or so I’ve heard. Someone can’t shut up about the writer of those,” he directs a half-glare at Lambert, who shrugs without a care. 

“I’m being shot at here!” 

“Oh you’ll be _fine_ ,” Yennefer rolls her eyes, making a bowl of grapes appear in her hand. “You’re a witcher, and I’m sure the bard’s twin won’t kill you. Or well.” She shrugs. “He looks like he really want to.” 

“Are you people all mad?” Jaskier asks and places himself in between his twin and Geralt. “Julian, put it down. Now!” 

Julian grumbles but lowers the crossbow. “Can I at least fight him with a sword?” 

“He’s really good with my sword,” Lambert pipes in, smirking, and Yennefer sends him a grape on the face for that. “What? It’s true!” 

“Child present,” she chides. 

“I am good at sword handling though,” Julian insists, and avoids a grape to his face. “Alright, alright.” 

“You can’t hurt the man I—“ Jaskier stops himself, crosses his arms. “You can’t hurt my muse. Who else would I sing about then?” 

“Someone who doesn’t treat you like shit,” Julian grumbles. 

“Oh get off it,” Jaskier rolls his eyes and grabs the crossbow. “You’ve insulted me your fair share of time.” 

“I’m your _brother_ , I get to do that! Not that filthy little—“ 

Jaskier puts his hand over his brother’s mouth. “Please, Julian. Don’t.” 

The pleading and pain in his voice and eyes is what really stops Julian. He can’t bear to see his brother like that, not over anyone, and especially not because of him. He drags Jaskier against him, hugs him tight. 

“Can someone explain what the fuck is going on?” Geralt explodes behind them, looking less startled and afraid now. 

Julian moves past his brother with a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. Geralt stares him down when he gets closer, but there is wariness on his face.

“I’m Julian Pankratz. Jaskier’s twin brother. If you hurt my brother again, yell at him again, treat him like shit again, I’m coming for your balls and your tongue, you get that? I don’t care that you are a witcher and the famous White Wolf or whatever. Hurt Jaskier again, and I’ll hunt you down.” 

There is silence for a moment, and then Geralt nods slowly. “Alright,” he grunts out. 

“Good.” Julian turns away and goes back to Lambert then, immediately being pulled on his own Witcher’s lap. 

Things are alright after that. In the mornings, Lambert and Julian still train, Eskel and Ciri joining them sometimes. Jaskier sings and Yennefer regularly grumbles that this is the real curse of her life. There is life, back within Kaer Morhen. 

One evening, Julian glimpses Jaskier standing at Geralt’s door, and the look on his brother’s face is so hesitant and afraid he almost walks there to make sure his brother is alright. But then, Geralt drags Jaskier against him and kisses him deeply, and Julian sighs a bit to himself. Well. If Jaskier is happy, that’s all Julian can ask for. 

**Author's Note:**

> No geralts were harmed in the making of this fic i swear
> 
> \-- Scenes cut off from this fic, for the sake of my sanity:  
> (1) Jaskier forces Julian to bathe -- it gets ugly  
> (2) Julian steals Jaskier's nice shirt because his own is bloody  
> (3) Vesemir gives a stern talk to Geralt about being careful around "the feral bard": "we don't know what he has up his sleeve, that boy. Don't think we can stop him twice"  
> (4) Lambert getting absolutely REKTED by his brothers for how in love he is with Julian.


End file.
